Trilla wanted to feel like they were winning the fight. She wanted to believe that she and Lord Banshor weren't merely stalling as the behemoth in the dark side towered before them, sweeping at the pair with seemingly limitless energy. She wanted to trust in the fact that Banshor knew precisely what he was doing and this wasn't merely a show of pride against an overwhelming adversary.
But as the supposed spirit of Darth Bane resting in the form of Ezra Bridger merely flicked a pair of fingers at her and she had to draw nearly all her strength to keep from splattered against one of Korriban's many jagged boulders, casting out with the Force to slow her, she couldn't keep the doubts from seeping in like the vacuum of space through a breached hull.
It wouldn't even have felt quite so disheartening if it didn't feel like she was nothing past a distraction to their foe; his focus seemed to be almost entirely locked on Banshor and though she was very near a state of debilitating exhaustion, Trilla tried with all her might to be useful.
I can't let him see me as otherwise.
She would thrust with the Force in an attempt to knock Bane off balance, but he shrugged this off with ease. She would flit around him with Force-assisted speed and unleash a flurry of concentrated strikes at every point in his body and he would evade, block, or blow her back with his own handle of the Force. She would reach out and collect an ocean of rocks to propel at him with the force of a solar storm, but none of them ever reached him.
And he never so much as looked at her.
Banshor didn't seem overly concerned that he was easily the more focused target of Bane's merciless assault. His lightsaber was always where it needed to be, deflecting Bane's strikes, swinging and jabbing at the few openings available, and whipping around with an almost lazy efficiency in his hand. But despite his calm demeanor and stalwart intent, Trilla didn't fail to notice that he was perpetually on his backfoot, always giving ground and never taking any in turn. And despite how strong she knew him to be, Trilla hadn't the slightest idea how he might gain an advantage.
The declaration that Ezra was, in fact, possessed by one of the most well-known and powerful Sith to ever live, incarnate in the body of a broken Jedi, hadn't registered with Trilla as an immediate truth. Frankly, it had sounded so outlandish and reaching that it had seemed too far for even an attempt at a bluff, but she didn't know what else it could be. Now, though, she was starting to feel that his words were nothing short of truth. She dared not look at him in the Force, certain that if she did now, the sight would overwhelm her in fear. And fear was something she knew must be beyond her.
She remembered the fear she had felt in the moment where she had lapsed into darkness, hearing the rasping, inevitable breath of Darth Vader at her back. It had come to her in weakness, as she had pondered the possibility of forgiveness, of disavowing her hate, and that fear had pinned her in place just before she had been struck down. Waking up at all, regardless of where she had found herself, had been a surprise.
And I won't give in to fear such as that again. I am stronger, I must be.
As if to prove this to herself through action alone, she leapt in a tight arc to where she was descending directly over Bane's head; she steeled herself through the Force, intent on forcing him to use his lightsaber to block if he wished to bat her away again, and thereby giving Banshor a window to press an attack of his own.
She sensed it just in time and redirected her grip of the dark side to twist around towards her own back as a rock the size of a small starship rocketed in her direction. Yelling, she slashed at it in a whirlwind of scarlet and she fell through its dusty remains, skidding to a halt after a few yards. Gritting her teeth, she looked up to see Bane continuing to bear down on Banshor, not seeming to so much as recognize that she had attached him at all. Trilla snarled and surged to her feet; ancient Sith of legend or not, she would strike him sooner or later, regardless of what punishment she might incur upon herself.
Trilla, calm yourself. Steady your hate, it will do us no good unfettered.
It was the first time Banshor had spoken to her mentally since the fight had begun and she froze at the touch of his cold, calculated presence. She couldn't tell if he was disappointed in her or not, whether that was for being a relative nonfactor in the fight or for the fact that she had very nearly reached a point where she might have lost control.
Forgive me, she answered, hating that she was even taking up his concentration by communicating with him, but feeling she had no other recourse. His power… it seems ceaseless.
It very well may be. Whether it's due to the form he's taken or the fact that Korriban itself is supplying him with enough strength in the dark side to outlast us, his power very well may be limitless as far as we are concerned.
Trilla didn't know how he could echo these thoughts to her and still sound perfectly in control.
Relax, he repeated to her. Do you sense a weakness we can exploit?
So surprised was she at such a question that it nearly caused her to lose focus as she hurled her lightsaber towards Bane's head where it became a deadly spinning disk. He batted it away expectedly, but Trilla felt some satisfaction as she swung a kick at his feet and forced him to leap over her as she tucked back in a roll, catching her lightsaber as it returned to her. Banshor ducked in a spin at the briefest respite she had bought him, dipping his head towards his wrist before whipping his lightsaber back against Bane's, the red and green exploding against one another with a crackling flash.
Weakness…
She wished desperately that she could offer an answer, but her tired mind offered her nothing tangible that she believed might genuinely work as a solution.
Nothing. With this amount of power and skill at his disposal, I can think of nothing.
Banshor didn't seem surprised at her response.
He may be able to outlast us in a battle of power alone… but he's not fighting us as his own self.
It took Trilla a moment to realize what he was suggesting.
Ezra.
Yes. I believe we can use that to our advantage.
Trilla could have admitted that by that point in their engagement, she had more or less entirely forgotten about the fact that Ezra's physical body was being used by Darth Bane, yanked about by tendrils of the dark side like a marionette on strings. The bent, broken body moved with precision and killing intent before her, ripped and ragged cloak swirling about as it moved in accordance with the ancient Sith's orchestration.
How?
Leave that to me.
The apprentice communicated his brief, almost laughably simple instructions to Trilla before numbing himself to her thoughts and letting himself refocus entirely on the form of Ezra in front of him. His lightsaber flashed about in a furious, bloodred dance to keep up with the vibrant emerald bar that whipped at him, every strike aiming to sever his head or burn through his chest. It was ironic in a way, to see a lightsaber the color of a lush, sunstruck forest that he would usually associate with the pacifistic Jedi working so hard to cut him down.
Behind his lips, Banshor clenched his teeth. Though neither Bane nor Trilla probably knew it, he was presently fighting two battles; one against Bane that was drawing as much focus, power, and skill he had ever mustered in his life and the other to keep up what he believed to be an essential appearance.
He would never admit it, but he was struggling immensely to keep Trilla from seeing how hard he was struggling.
Bane might not have known it as he pressured Banshor in a seemingly endless loop, but the apprentice knew without a doubt that the Sith he was being pushed to the brink against was aware of how close he was to ending the fight. Banshor was just keeping him at bay, unable to do much beyond just staying above water while he had formulated the plan that had just come to him. He hadn't told Trilla precisely what he had done, but she had bought him the split second he had needed to put it into action. Now, it was just a matter of timing and would start with him using his best weapon against the Sith.
If there was anything someone hugely strong in the dark side could be prodded with, it was their own pride.
"Darth Bane," he mused aloud above the snapping thunder that they wove between their lightsabers. "Curious that if you're as strong as you claim, you needed the weak body of a Jedi to manifest into something worth paying attention to."
In the furthest cove of his mind, Banshor was frankly astonished at just who his opponent actually seemed to be, but there was no space in his consciousness to ponder what this could mean. It was taking everything in his power to keep all his limbs attached to his body. Still, he was never made unaware just how monstrous the presence before him was; should he have looked inwards with the Force once more, he would have only seen a titanic mountain of the dark side towering before him.
"Even as you draw your last breaths, you spit disrespect?"
The voice of Ezra was cloaked with a brutal bite that Banshor hadn't heard in the depths of Korriban's winding tunnels.
"I offered you both a chance to serve my will. And due to your own foolish vanity, you've doomed both yourself and this woman."
"Hmm," Banshor replied, pressuring his muscles to allow a smirk crack the right side of his mouth. "For the creator of the Rule of Two to be demanding two servants in the dark side… I suppose you've certainly had plenty of time rotting to reconsider your position."
Bane didn't respond, but if possible, his attacks somehow grew more intense. Internally, Banshor was thrilled his plan was about to be put into action; he didn't know how much longer he could manage this façade.
He counted the seconds down carefully and pointedly, not letting himself slip in the slightest. Then, he reached out to Trilla and gave her consciousness the barest nudge. Drawing back, he pulled his lightsaber over his shoulder and snapped his body like a Kodashi viper. His lightsaber ripped from his hand and sailed towards Darth Bane's head; Banshor watched as the eyes of Ezra briefly widened in surprise as his opponent willingly relieved himself of his weapon. The head the apprentice had aimed for twitched slightly to the right to allow the searing red beam to flash just past the curve his neck made above the shoulder, burning several seams in Ezra's tattered cloak.
Curving his fingers like claws, Banshor drew his arms back as Bane surged forward to punish his enemy now without a weapon.
He should know better than anyone… I'm never without a weapon.
Plunging himself into his own will, Banshor bared his teeth as lightning forked free from his hands, splintering through the space between the two of them. Though he had become more than adept at several measures of the Force, Banshor's ability with Force lightning had been something he had honed into what he would have called something of an art form. Each bolt snapped and crossed through the air with a precision born only of supreme discipline and the storm surged towards Bane with an indomitable fury. For a moment, Banshor completely forgot his own plan, fully believing that his power would wash over his opponent and end the fight then and there.
And yet, Bane merely lifted his lightsaber and caught the storm like he were swatting a fly; it was difficult to tell from the bright blue flashes that threw his face into sharp relief, but Banshor could have sworn he saw the mouth of Ezra twitch into what very well might have been a smile of his own. Seeing his power glanced off as such nearly gave the apprentice pause, but he batted down his pride, knowing that if his plan failed, he very well may not live to restore it. Despite its apparent futility, he ramped up his output, sending lightning billowing into Bane's lightsaber, seemingly achieving nothing, but actually accomplishing a single, very important goal.
Hold still.
Trilla didn't disappoint; though the apprentice couldn't see her beyond the storm crackling in front of him, he saw the ground splintering around Bane's feet and watched the flicker of understanding pass over the Sith's face.
"Pointless," Ezra's voice growled and almost boredly, he swept back his lightsaber and leapt into the air as the cracked, dry dirt of Korriban gave way beneath him. The backfire of his lightning threw Banshor to the ground, but as he scrambled up, his eyes only flicked to the form of the Sith, towering above him both physically and within the Force, beyond powerful, unyielding, and perhaps unbeatable.
"I grow weary of your stalling," Darth Bane boomed from where he hung in the air, briefly suspended to avoid both Banshor's lightning and the ground Trilla had just ripped apart from beneath him. "Perish and become one with the Force as so many before you—"
He was talking right up until it happened and that was as sure a sign as any to the apprentice that, at the very least, his plan had succeeded insofar as catching the ancient Sith off-guard.
There came an orchestra of chaos all at once; Banshor saw a blinding green flash as the space Bane had just been occupying erupted in an emerald explosion as a black mass flew over their heads faster than the eye could track, accompanied by a screeching whine. This sound, while fading as fast as it arrived, was completely drowned out then as Banshor felt the very energy around him draw inward and the world went silent for just a moment, not even his own breathing reaching his ears.
Then, a burst of pure power thudded out from overhead accompanied by the furious bellow of what sounded to be a man, if one man were able to raise his voice to the volume of a capital-class hyperdrive. Banshor went momentarily deaf as he was thrown back to the ground and a great wave of the dark side washed over him, ripping at his very mind as it raced overhead like a Kaminoan tsunami. He jammed his eyes shut, digging into his training and doing everything in his power to keep from being blown away like a dry leaf in a windstorm. It seemed endless, a searing roar against his ears, an indomitable pressure against his body, a surging hatred against his very being.
And then, it was past.
The noise faded so abruptly that the ensuing sound of Banshor pushing unsteadily to his feet sounded distant and far too quiet as his boots scraped against the earth of Korriban. He felt he shouldn't be trying to rise so suddenly, but the idea of remaining on the ground sickened his dignity. The world spun slightly as he straightened and his fists clenched while he drew on the Force, sapping furiously at it in an effort to return himself to something of a status quo. Yet, as he looked and felt about him and took in the sight, he allowed himself a grim, satisfied smile, something he knew his master would have disapproved of.
The presence of Darth Bane had vanished entirely, and with it, the oppressive weight on his mind had lifted. He felt he could breath safely again. Ahead of him, he could no longer see where Trilla had split the surface of Korriban beneath Bane as all of it had been blown away in a deep, vast crater. Looking even past the enormous pit before him, the very ground had almost seemed to change composition; it looked pulled away and had darkened in color as far as the eye could see. Banshor reached out to locate Trilla in the Force and found her beneath some rubble on the opposite end of the crater, something like a hundred yards now from him having been repelled by the explosion that had just taken place. He flitted over and waved his hand, casting off the rocks, dirt, and dust covering her and she stirred immediately.
"On your feet, Trilla," he said in cold, quiet voice. "It wouldn't do to let our guard down just now."
His voice seemed to rejuvenate her and with a grimace, she made it to her hands and knees, coughing. Another time, he might have urged her forward impatiently, but just then, he was happy to have a reason to stand where he was, looking upwards toward the hole that had been burst in the cloud cover above.
Darth Banshor had gone into training at a very young age, swearing himself to Darth Plagueis and taking on a brutal and relentless number of years training himself physically and through the Force. He had been put to the test since in all facets of his skill base, duels of all sorts with his mind, his blade, the Force, or any combination of the aforementioned. He had experienced this in training and in serving his master, and he had taken many lives through such work. Though he could recount several times he had been challenged, even surprised such as during his encounters with Rey Palpatine and Ben Solo, not once had he ever found himself in a place where he knew himself to be completely and entirely outclassed.
That had changed today.
His commlink chimed and he tuned into it, glad for the distraction from his brooding.
"My lord, are you alright?"
Nizhia's voice crackled in his ear and hearing the genuine concern from a being so typically aloof and carefree was pleasant to Banshor's ear.
"Quite. Well done."
That was about as far as he would ever dare compliment one of his lessers, but even without the Force, he could feel the swell of pride in the pilot's voice.
"You made it easy for me. A transport will be down shortly."
The apprentice confirmed the order and switched the commlink off, closing his eyes briefly.
"I… wasn't sure what your plan was to be," Trilla admitted behind him. She had made it to her feet and though she was bent slightly at the waist, she seemed to be relatively unharmed. "You… ordered a pilot to… shoot him out of the air?"
When said so crudely, Banshor didn't particularly like how it struck his ear; it sounded inelegant, cheap, and almost undeserved. He reminded himself just how tight the odds had been and pointed too to the fact that it had worked period. The two of them were still breathing, the method be damned.
And I never would have tried it with another pilot, he thought. Who else but Nizhia could have made that shot… who else would have even dared try?
His pilot flew a TIE-shadow, custom equipped with a forward battery of L-s9.9 laser cannons that Nizhia had custom requested and installed himself. They had needed to be specially constructed by an offshoot of the Sienar Fleet Systems and had been initially dismissed as impossible to build compactly enough to work on such a fighter. Nizhia had made it work, however, the power balance between engine, weapons, and shields aboard his ship constantly in flux as he adjusted them for nearly every maneuver he made. The ship flew under his touch with a similar ease to which Banshor wielded his lightsaber and it was that ease that had allowed him to blow over the surface of the planet at a dangerously excessive speed and fire a single heavy burst into the suspended figure of Darth Bane.
Lucky.
Banshor hated thinking the thought at all, but it was true. He had done his best to make sure Bane was focused as exclusively on him as he could, but even then…
If he had just cast out in a more broad focus around him, he would have seen the ship coming a mile away and crushed it into bloody metal.
Surprise had done the trick, surprise hurled at Bane's singular weakness, his arrogance. He hadn't felt the need to cast out around him, he had been content battering down Banshor and Trilla, no doubt eager to make an example of those who would defy him. Yes, they had gotten lucky, but it had worked.
"Did we… destroy him?" Trilla asked just behind him, her voice so quiet as if she worried to dare ask.
"Bane?" Banshor asked and scoffed, sincerely wishing he could do otherwise. "No. I gambled that the spirit possessing the body of the Jedi would sooner scatter itself rather than willingly be destroyed along with its vessel. That shockwave we felt was his spirit escaping and avoiding the attack I orchestrated from one of my pilots."
A gamble. That was the best I could do.
The black-gloved hand not in Trilla's line of sight clenched and shuddered. He had offered bravado and an aura of confidence, acting as if he would be able to indefinitely hold his own against the spirit, but internally, the best he could conceive was a gamble.
He closed his eyes as the distant thrumming of a troop transport echoed in his still ringing ears, the same troop transport that had been flying in a holding pattern just above the atmosphere at his word. Trilla said nothing to him over the next minute as the vessel touched down nearby on a ridge just beyond the now massive, smoldering crater left in the mere wake of Darth Bane. Banshor listened as the boots of the battalion whisked to the surface of the planet fanned out past and around him, needlessly securing the area. He should have wanted nothing more than to leave Korriban, but he had caught himself up on something that had just brushed his consciousness.
Instantly, he had plunged tendrils of the Force towards the presence that should not have been and, in relative bemusement, he confirmed what it was. Any other time, he might have allowed a satisfied smile to reach his lips, but he merely noted the occurrence as the commanding officer approached him.
"My lord, are you well?"
A ghost of the concern he had heard in Nizhia's voice; the officer sounded more fearful and curious than anything.
"Fine. All threats have been eliminated."
One of the more absurd lies he had ever told.
"My lord—" the officer started, but fell into immediate silence as the apprentice turned on his heel to face him; there must have been quite the look on his face to prompt the almost panicked glint in the man's eyes.
"Take us back to Relentless. I imagine I'm soon to be subjected to some excuses."
Rey's head snapped off her pillow well before the commlink sitting by her bedside chimed loudly. Her heart pounding, she looked over to Ben who had risen to a half-crouched position, looking ready to leap from the bed if need be. They locked eyes with one another and without a word, launched themselves for the door and sprinted into the broad hanger.
By the brief glance towards the sky, Rey could see morning was approaching regardless, the sky's black fading gingerly into the lilac that preceded dawn, but she had no time to reflect on the outward state of where they were, not with what lay ahead. Ben reached in the Force and yanked the Ghost's ramp down before they reached it and the two were up its short length in the blink of an eye.
"Observation: I have been attempting to raise the both of you following your order that—" was as far as HK-47 managed before Rey and Ben rounded him on either side and slowed as they approached the lower bunk affixed to the side of the ship's cabin.
Ahsoka was sitting on it, back stiff and chest heaving; Rey imagined she had only just managed to sit back down, such was the look in her eyes. If HK was capable of being startled, she might very well have managed it as she exploded off her bed, such was how it had felt in the Force, enough so that the shout she had released mentally had rattled both Rey and Ben from their sleep.
Ben immediately made to approach her side, but Rey quickly cut him off by placing her arm in his path. He looked to her with an intense look in his eyes, but she only shook her head silently, panting slightly from the effort it had taken to move from their bed back to the ship so suddenly. The Force gently eased her body and she sensed it doing the same to Ahsoka; Rey felt some semblance of relief in that and knew that the best thing they could do for the Togruta just then was be patient. She gestured and after a second of watching him, Ben conceded. He waved a hand and a pair of stools flew to their side, allowing them both to take a seat ahead of the clearly rattled Ahsoka. HK remained mercifully silent behind them.
"I… suppose I can estimate fairly well what's happened," Ahsoka finally said after well over a minute of the three of them doing their best to relax. She raised her head finally to regard the both of them and Rey was glad to see her eyes firm and focused; when they had boarded, they were misted and unclear, seeing something well beyond what the two of them were.
Such are dreams.
"Probably," she answered fairly. "Would you like us to fill in the gaps?"
Ahsoka set her mouth in a thin line and nodded slowly, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.
"We faced off briefly against Banshor," Ben explained. Ahsoka kept her eyes closed, but Rey could tell she was listening closely. "During our fight, he noticed what he was looking for… some sort of tablet that had Sith inscriptions on it. We destroyed it, but he let on that he had gotten enough of a look at it for it to be useful."
"Ezra showed up then," Rey added. "He… he told us that you were unconscious, but alive, and that we needed to get to you and run."
Realizing more or less what they were admitting to, she looked at Ben, unable to keep from feeling guilty as her remembrance of what had happened caught up to her.
"We… did."
She lowered her head; even though Ahsoka wasn't looking at her, the idea of meeting her eyes was terribly difficult just then.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "We could have stayed, we could have fought with—"
"I'm glad you didn't."
The response surprised her enough to raise her head on instinct and she found Ahsoka smiling at her.
"Ezra wouldn't have asked you to leave if he hadn't known…"
Ahsoka's chest slowly rose and fell, and Rey felt her heart throb as she saw her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Gently, she raised a hand and drew them against the corners of her eyes, wiping aside the show of her vulnerability in the most dignified way she could.
"Though I was unconscious for a time, clearly, I was adrift in the Force. I… reached for him. I felt his touch in my mind… I tried to press him and… and it was like a shadow the size of a planet nearly swallowed me. I felt only fear, such fear as I've never felt… I guessed at it when I felt his presence on Murkhana, but… I knew then that something terrible had happened to him."
She seemed to grow steadier the longer she spoke. Clenching her fists against her knees, she tried a small smile, looking between Rey and Ben as she continued.
"As you may have guessed, Ezra was once someone very important to me. During the days of the Rebel Alliance, we met in our own personal struggles against the Empire. He was… he was a good person, full of hope, full of faith. He was just a boy then and though that wouldn't be the last time I saw him, I know the years that followed… challenged him in ways he couldn't have prepared for. We lost track of one another, but… to think this… this has…"
Ahsoka trailed off once more and Ben stirred beside Rey and she could feel his desire to know more outgrowing his patience. She felt a warmth as he gently ran his question past her in their heads, asking silently for permission and she looked his way, offering a small nod.
"What do you believe has happened to him?"
Drawing in a quaking breath, Ahsoka met his eyes, the gravity of her stare not to be mistaken.
"Though my experience has shown me little in the way of this phenomenon, I have read about such instances… I believe Ezra has been possessed by the spirit of a Sith. One extremely powerful in the Force no less."
Rey stiffened where she sat and it felt as though a very cold hand had just settled on her shoulder. Ben too grew very still beside her as they regarded Ahsoka; neither of them would have been anything short of relieved if she were to break into a smile and inform them she was merely joking, but she did no such thing.
"How is this possible?" Ben asked quietly. "The Force as always worked in mysterious ways and has been harnessed by all manner of beings to twist and use for their own ends, but… I've never heard of such a thing even through my own studies of Sith and Jedi history. I've heard of spirits themselves, but… to possess someone?"
"I don't know," Ahsoka admitted quietly. "But I would be confident in staking that's what's happened to Ezra."
The three of them lapsed into silence, all of them pondering in their own thoughts what this could mean, and what implications it held. Rey couldn't quite wrap her mind around it entirely, but she immediately began to feel unclean; as she remembered her grandfather's body disintegrating and bearing its soul back into the void, she was seized by a sudden, awful thought of his spirit rising and collapsing upon her, snaring her body in its will.
Could that have happened? Could he have taken control of me? Could he have taken control of Ben? Could he have affixed himself to us, waiting for the moment to strike and take over one of our minds?
She shook this off as quickly as it had occurred to her.
No… that can't have happened. We'd have known, one of us would have known.
The bond the both of them shared in the Force was deep enough that no infiltrating presence could have reached either of them without the other knowing, Rey knew this to be true and the thought gave her strength, the first she had felt since Ahsoka had introduced the horrifying idea.
Ben was the first to take the subject and twist it to face reality in the form of a question.
"If Ezra was possessed by a Sith… why would he have come down to save us from Darth Banshor? Why would he have saved you from that Sith disciple, whoever she was? Why would he have faced down one of his own instead of helping him?"
"My only thought to that end is that the Sith wasn't or isn't always in control," Ahsoka said. "Though it may influence him, warp his thoughts and emotions, perhaps even take full control from time to time, it cannot or did not hold true control over his body."
Ben didn't look reassured by this hypothesis in the slightest.
"If there is the body of a Jedi out there being puppeteered by the soul of an ancient Sith… that's just another unknown that's been added to the mix."
He looked down at his lap, the tight expression on his face further enforcing the waning confidence in the next words he spoke.
"There's been too much of this… a Sith, a Sith spirit, both of whom found us on Korriban, the Sith homeworld. The dark side has never felt so strong, even when I had fully embraced it and was living in its shadow under Snoke… it almost feels—"
Rey reached out, unable to listen to his growing trepidation any longer, but as she took his hand with every intention of offering words of comfort to ease his mind, Ahsoka beat her to the punch.
"Enough. I understand your fears, Ben Solo, but doubt does nothing but hinder us in the best of times and will completely debilitate us in the worst."
Her voice had changed cadence into something vastly more confident to what Rey had heard when she and Ben had rushed onto the Ghost. Whether or not Ahsoka had pushed past her own anxieties or was just doing a much better job now at hiding them, she was now regarding Ben with the stern eye of a teacher, her words tinged with discipline, but Rey heard the warmth there too.
"We must be mindful and we must continue to give our thoughts to the Force. It will help show us the way forward and we mustn't forget that we are together. The dark side, no matter how many users may wield it against us, we will be able to overcome that."
Though her mind was raging, Rey could feel the truth in Ahsoka's words and she dug deep, remembering Leia's training.
One of the hardest things to accept is how little we actually are able to control. Those strong in the dark side are blind to this truth; their persistence to dominate and seize power over all is a vicious and endless cycle. To be a Jedi means to we aren't just aware of that lack of control, but we accept it and as such, we are able to thrive in it.
Closing her eyes, Rey took a deep breath and sighed it out. Beside her, she could still feel Ben's thoughts thundering with anxiety and uncertainty; she reached out to bridge the gap between them, extending herself into the storm cloud that was his mind.
"It'll be alright," she urged him gently. "Look at how far we've come already. Now that we know about it, we can prepare for it, but we can't let this dig into our heads any more than necessary. She's right."
Ben's initial response was a sigh of his own, but he took the hand she had offered him and squeezed it tight.
"I know. It's just… to feel so powerless over so much…"
Thinking back to Leia's words, Rey wouldn't have doubted for a moment that Bens' sentiment was an echo of his dark side training.
He wants to be able to have power over things… to protect me, to protect himself… to know things are going to be alright.
She glanced over and waited for him to meet her eyes before offering him as reassuring a smile as she could.
"Don't worry. I've got your back."
He looked at her almost blankly for a moment, then gently smiled himself. His upper body twitched and Rey knew immediately that he had just restrained himself from leaning in to kiss her.
"I know."
Rey looked back to Ahsoka who was waiting patiently before them, a twinkle in her eyes suggesting she knew full well that there was more of a conversation happening that she wasn't able to hear. Rey wondered how similar her bond to Ezra was as hers was with Ben.
Boots clicking against the ramp caused the three of them to turn; Niroh's white hair came into view as he jogged gently onto the Ghost looking rather tired and caught up in his own thoughts. His eyes came up to see that he was being watched and they widened in mild surprise.
"Shoot, I thought I was going to be the first one up," he remarked.
"Explanation: The Togruta was experiencing a great deal of turmoil through the Force as best I can gather and she—"
Niroh put up a hand, grimacing slightly.
"Not a problem, HK, don't need to go tattling on them for me. Their business is their business."
Rey heard his words and immediately prodded his almost carefree response in the Force, fishing for any bitterness or sarcasm, but found no ill will. As was typical with Niroh, she found little of anything at all in the Force, his consciousness centered and nearly blank. She wondered if his ability to remain so free of emotional turmoil was a result of him having grown up on such a bleak world and it made her appreciation for him all the greater. But as it always was when regarding the white-haired youth, she felt Ben's mind swell with suspicion and caution.
"There's a small, relatively cozy place just down a couple alleys I scouted," he said and sighed, drawing up a hand to wipe aside a line of perspiration that had formed above his brow; as she watched this, Rey realized that she was sweating a bit too. "Stars' end, the humidity on this awful planet is going to kill me before anything else."
Ben shrugged.
"If you liked it better back on Korriban…" he started to suggest and Rey felt the bite to his voice. She made to speak up and keep him from trying to start a verbal fencing match before Niroh let out a loud laugh.
"Whoa, whoa, let's not get carried away. Humidity sucks, sure, but it's not trying to punch holes in me with blasterfire either. Point taken."
He paced a little further into the ship's main cabin, opening the locker where he had his phrick blade stored.
"Anyways, I was thinking I'll get something to eat there and then start skulking around, trying to find somewhere we can pick up some parts. I checked last night, we're actually in better shape than I thought, although we definitely need some checks done on the rear of this baby… and we'll need some new stabilizer plates for sure, not worried about tracking those down and though it looks like it just banged up a bit, I'd feel a lot better picking up a new motivator for the hyperdrive as well."
"That won't come cheap," Rey warned, having looked at the hyperdrive herself. "Make sure you withdraw plenty enough credits from the ship's computer before you head out, there should be a few credit sticks lying around that you can load…"
Niroh raised an eyebrow at her as he tilted his body to face towards the central computer.
"Oh man, are you guys really that loaded too?"
"Not really. Two hundred thousand sitting in our system."
She supposed she ought to have picked her words better. In the case of a relatively high end craft like the Ghost and with money coming from Arkin's purse, she hadn't given their monetary situation much thought. It had been easier to focus on other things and not have to worry about credits, but as Niroh's eyes bugged, she immediately felt guilty; that number might very well have been more money than he had ever seen in his life.
"Yeesh, yeah… we could replace every system on this ship five times over for that much," he grunted, walking over to the computer and swiping up a credit stick. "Alright, well, I'm going to go get something to eat and then I'll track down these parts for us, so we can get to work and get off this mudball as quick as we can."
"Suggestion: I'll accompany you during you during this venture."
"No, I need you working on the back," Niroh said, shaking his head. "Our heat exhaust vents took a beating and you're the only one who can work on straightening those out without getting cooked."
"You shouldn't go alone," Ahsoka spoke up as she stood from her bedside. "We've had a quiet stay thus far, but it's clear the streets might not be all that safe."
Niroh offered her a crooked smile.
"You guys forget where you picked me up?"
"You still shouldn't go alone," Rey said, finding herself agreeing wholeheartedly with Ahsoka. She was about to offer to go herself when Ben surprised her.
"I'll go," he said, straightening as he stood as if to remind himself he was taller than Niroh.
"Neither of you two should be going," Ahsoka said. "If there is any sort of real New Republic presence here…"
"We'll keep our hoods up," Ben assured. "Besides, you need to talk to Rey; we have to figure out where we're going next and you'll be able to piece together much better what she saw than I could."
Rey blinked. She had very nearly forgotten about the tablet she had quickly forced herself to memorize as much of as she could back on Korriban. Though she hated the idea of Ben leaving her side, she knew he was right; there was going to be risk in every facet of what they did from this point onward.
"He's right," she nodded, swallowing and getting to her feet a little more shakily than she would have liked. "If we're going to catch up to the Sith, we can't be wasting time."
Ahsoka looked carefully between the both of them before turning her eyes to Niroh who flipped her an awkward thumbs up. She sighed.
"Very well. Then I suppose we'd all best get to work."
Ezra was well aware his body was being fueled by nothing more than the Force as he staggered across Korriban's bleak surface. His arms felt only loosely attached to his body, his legs dragged forward like they were full of sand; his lungs heaved dryly, his head spun, every nerve in his body either ached or burned.
And he was happier than he had been in years.
He begrudgingly had to compliment the Sith's plan to defeat him and his only recently removed mental visitor, stroke of luck though it had been. Despite the sheer speed of the attack that had separated them, Darth Bane had immediately drew up his as much dark side energy to defend, but still, with a bellow of rage that had deafened Ezra's own ears, he had vacated Ezra's body as the fat green bolts of light had impacted them. Ironically, Ezra imagined that the Force that Bane had gathered had actually saved his life, bursting outwards in the wake of Bane's exit and keeping the ship's fire from thoroughly atomizing him.
Still, he knew he needed to leave as soon as he could. The cloaking device on his own craft would have to be enough to evade this vessels under the command of this new dark order, Ezra couldn't stay any longer. Even if it meant getting vaporized above the planet's atmosphere in ship-to-ship combat, he welcomed the idea just then. Anything to leave Korriban behind him forever.
